Where Passion Leads (Berkeley-Faulkner #1)(103)

In response his hands grasped her h*ps firmly, and Rosalie realized with shock that he was turning her onto her stomach. Her br**sts were flattened as she lay on the mattress, her face turned to one side as she endeavored to look at him. An odd, excited chill chased over her skin as Rand kissed the nape of her neck and nibbled lightly at the fragile hollows of her spine. Although she had never imagined it before, instinctively Rosalie sensed what he was about to do, and she quivered in nervous expectation. Rand’s velvety voice teased her ears, dark and erotic whispers that filled her mind with vivid, earthy pictures. Smoothly his fingers slid between her and the mattress, splaying under her h*ps and lifting her upward. Her knees folded underneath her body, and she was hazily aware of the friction of his hard, lightly furred chest against her back. “Rand?” she asked dazedly, her mind swimming as she heard the taut flow of his breathing, and then she sobbed as he thrust into her, large and potent, the sensation stringent and forceful as it rampaged through her body. His arms were braced on either side of her, and she clung to his wrists tightly, filled by his driving power until there was no separation between her flesh and his. And although his passion was violent it was also loving, for she was dimly aware that her satisfaction was paramount to him, and that every movement was designed to increase her rapture. The sensations welled inside her until she gave herself up to them helplessly, arching against him as she was transfixed by shattering bliss. His hand reached underneath her body to stroke her, furthering the sweet gratification as long as possible. Rosalie felt him surge inside her hotly, and Rand pulled her h*ps more tightly against his as he shuddered with the white heat of fulfillment.

It took a long time for Rosalie to recover herself, her mind and body drugged with a pleasant weakness that wound around her like velvet fleece. Turning to face Rand, she pressed her face against his shoulder and was enclosed in his embrace, the safest haven she would ever know. She was not aware of falling asleep, but she knew when she opened her eyes again that hours had passed by. Stretching and yawning, she luxuriated in the mingled warmth of their bodies and snuggled against Rand. As she lifted her gaze upward she saw that he was clear-eyed and awake, and evidently had been watching her for some time.

“It’s dawn,” he said, stroking the soft skin along the side of her face with his thumb. He was fascinated by the tumbled beauty of her, her face tinged with the pink of the frailest seashell, her tender and well-kissed lips, and the eyes of a blue so rich and deep that they approached the shade of midnight. Drowsily she smiled at him, her gaze taking on mysterious depths that caused his heart to skip a beat. She seemed to have some secret knowledge that pleased her greatly, and he wondered what silent thoughts were going through her mind.

Rosalie brushed her mouth over his heart, searching and finding his steady pulse, her tongue touching his skin until she sensed that his heartbeat had increased to a faster rhythm. Raising herself up onto her elbows, she climbed halfway onto his large body with the graceful precision of a cat, her hands delicately placed to steady herself as she bent her head to his throat.

“Rose . . .” he began with a husky laugh, but his amusement disappeared rapidly as she licked and nibbled at the base of his neck. Her weight, slight though it was, served to press his wide shoulders flat against the mattress, the soft peaks of her br**sts brushing against his chest. In a matter of seconds his desire for her catapulted to an excruciating level. His lashes lowered as he felt the insistent, nagging desperation sweep over him in an unruly tide. He was hard and hungry for her, and his hands came up to her elbows as he prepared to pull her under him.

“No,” she said, and he let go of her, momentarily surprised by the firmness of her voice. What game had she decided to play? he wondered, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at her. Bestowing a promising halfsmile on him, Rosalie pulled the pillow from underneath his head and tossed the downy cushion to the floor. Completely prone, Rand gave her a measured look, his eyes full of curiosity, desire, and perhaps even a touch of frustration. He slid his hands behind his head and continued to watch her, deciding to wait a minute or two in order to discover what she intended. Rosalie resumed her slow, careful attentions, her lips wandering up to the rim of his ear and back down his neck again. She felt her own excitement increase, for it was a novel sensation to feel his powerful body so still under her ministrations, all of his strength and masculine urges held in check, leaving her free to explore him unhindered. Kissing his lips warmly, Rosalie touched her tongue to the corner of his mouth, smiling as she felt his chest rise and fall with a deep gasp. His hands came on either side of her face as he kissed her hungrily, a soft purr vibrating in his throat as her tongue slipped inside his mouth. He began to say something, but the low sound of his voice faded abruptly as he felt her fingers trace over the well-sculptured side of his waist and stroke over his abdomen. The tip of her tongue left a moist, warm trail over one flat male nipple, then the other, and suddenly Rand could not remember ever aching with such need in his life.

“I’ve got to have you now,” he rasped impatiently, and Rosalie pulled away before he could reach her, turning the covers further down the bed. He was a splendorous sight, lean and perfectly made, each part of his form etched with grace and masculine vitality. Bending over him, she pressed her mouth to the taut surface of his midriff and left a downward trail of kisses along his skin, pausing at the tightly knit flesh of his abdomen and feeling him shiver as she pressed her teeth there in a small crescent. Her hair trailed over him silkily, as soft and precious as rivulets of mercury. The tinge of passion illuminated Rand’s cheekbones. His eyes were closed, his skin tightly drawn over the strong, elegant lines of his face. Suddenly Rosalie reached the object of her quest, and as her mouth and tongue tentatively caressed his throbbing masculinity, he reached a plane of sensation that he had never dreamed possible. Biting his lip, he clenched his trembling hands, a hoarse sound issuing from his throat as he felt the whispery warmth of Rosalie’s wondering sigh against him. Rand’s mind went blank, and he was driven so mad with desire that he barely remembered what happened afterward. He gathered her in his arms with a punishing grip, his arms as tight as steel bands around her. Rosalie gasped at his unanticipated reaction, her gentle reverie interrupted rudely as he flipped her over onto her back, his grip so tight that she could barely breathe. He ignored her indignant protests, pushing into her with one greedy shove, huge and demanding. Then Rosalie groaned, arching against him repeatedly as he rode her hard and fast. Helplessly she exploded in his arms, just before his low growl of ecstasy vibrated in her ears.